


Five Months

by turbomun



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 09:08:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8973571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turbomun/pseuds/turbomun
Summary: It's been five months since Green lost the championship.





	

The big problem with being on top of the world was that it was so easy to lose your balance, and there weren’t very many handholds on the way down – so if you fell, you were almost certainly going to fall all the way.

Green had been on top of the world for about five minutes, and when he fell, he didn’t just go crashing down to where he’d started, but rather into a chasm he’d never seen before that had opened underneath him as he’d been tumbling down, until he ended up in a dark hole with everything good and bright forever out of his reach. That was what it felt like then. That was still what it felt like now.

One month after he’d lost the championship.

He hadn’t completed the Pokedex (in fact, the device itself had been smashed to pieces underneath Blastoise, so he didn’t even have the proof of how close he’d come to finishing it). Red had. He hadn’t caught the mysterious, incredibly strong Pokemon in Cerulean Cave. Red had. He hadn’t gotten to be the champion who the whole region adored. Red had…

And when Green finally started to consider leaving, just making a clean escape, Red’d had to go and do that first, too – he just up and left and didn’t tell anyone where he was going. He wouldn’t answer his communicator, at least not for his mother and Professor Oak; Green hadn’t even bothered trying to call him. He didn’t want to talk to Red anyway.

So these days Green just stayed holed away in his room, flopped out on the bed with his hands folded on his stomach or behind his head. His blood itched for action, but he’d quickly discovered that when he went out to battle anyone else, they always recognized him.

_Oh, aren’t you the ex-champion?_

_Hey, you’re the former champion, right?_

_You’re the one who got beaten by Champion Red!_

A week or so after the defeat, he’d flown to Celadon City for a supply run, and that had been his biggest mistake yet. News and television reporters had set up a trap for him outside the department store, and soon they had mobbed around him, walling him in on all sides. The very media that could have been, should have been praising his victory was now clamoring to know, “What does it feel like to lose the championship so quickly, Green? Green, did you know that you held the record shortest championship in Kanto history? Did you loose your touch already? What are you going to do now that you’ve lost everything?”

And he ran until they stopped following him, the questions flitting around his head like Beedrills ready to pierce and sting, as he steadfastly refused to answer them even in his own mind.

So Green locked himself in his room, sick with the understanding that even if he had held on to his position, the media only would have praised him if they thought it would make a good story. The second he made any kind of transgression, they would have pounced on him the way they were doing now, for the sake of their own and their audiences’ entertainment. Fair-weather friends, in other words.

Just like Red, who got everything that Green had ever wanted, and then just turned around and left it all behind for no discernible reason…

…

Two months after he’d lost the championship.

Red’s mother was no longer speaking to him. The woman whose house he’d spent fifty percent of his childhood in, who’d had more of a role in his life than his own mother ever did, wouldn’t say a word to him because she was convinced that he was the reason why her son had taken off all those weeks ago. She fretted about Red constantly, of course, and even went to the police, but they had apologetically turned her away; after all, he’d left a note, and while it was brief and unhelpful, it clearly stated that he’d left of his own volition. He’d taken all of his Pokemon and travel supplies, and he was old enough to be off on his own Pokemon journey, and just refusing to answer his communicator wasn’t enough to warrant the involvement of law enforcement. So they still didn’t know exactly where Red was.

Green couldn’t have cared less.

One day, his grandfather called him to the lab, where he offered Green a shiny new Pokedex. Green stared at it, cradled in the old man’s wrinkly hand, and then actually recoiled.

“What the hell are you giving me this for?” he demanded, like he’d just been presented with a pile of excrement.

Professor Oak raised an eyebrow. “I’m giving it to you because your Pokedex was broken, of course. I thought that you’d want to get back out there at some point and start making up for the work you’d lost – ”

Green snatched up the Pokedex and threw it past his grandfather angrily, hearing it skid against the concrete floor, but without the satisfying smash that he’d been hoping for. As he stormed out of the lab, Professor Oak caught up with him, grabbing the boy roughly by the shoulder.

“Green!” he snapped. “That’s a very important piece of technology, young man! Is that how you treat all your gifts?!”

“I don’t need any gifts from you!” Green spat. “Especially not a Pokedex!”

“But don’t you want to refill – ”

“Of course I don’t! What would be the point?! Red already completed the Pokedex, so what good would it do me, huh?!”

Professor Oak’s face creased into his disapproving look – a look that Green had been seeing a lot lately, so much that it no longer made him feel sickened or guilty, but simply angered him even more. It reminded him of when he lost the critical battle, when the professor showed up, heaping compliments and affection upon Red…before turning to Green and just saying, “I’m disappointed in you.” Disappointed. Right. Disappointed in his grandson who had defeated every gym, who made it through the Elite Four, who had been just a hair away from beating Red and defending his title…!

He made sure to shove past his grandfather extra-roughly before stomping his way home.

…

Three months after he’d lost the championship.

Still no sign of Red.

Green could count on one hand the number of time he’d dared to slink out of his house, or even out of his room. Most days, he reluctantly agreed to take dinner with his grandfather and sister, where he’d perfunctorily stuff a few bites of food into his mouth before disappearing upstairs again. He kept his curtains drawn, and the perpetual darkness suited his brooding mood.

Tonight, before he had the opportunity to sneak off, Professor Oak confronted him. He set down his utensils with a clink and frowned over at Green’s angst-puckered face.

“Enough with that expression, young man!” he proclaimed. “You’ve been sulking up in your cave for ages now, and I’ve just about had enough of it! It’s time that you came down and rejoined the world…”

Green’s eyes flicked upwards, simmering with repressed rage. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re eleven years old and you ought to be spending time outside your room!” Professor Oak proclaimed. “And there’s plenty to do out there! Why, you’ve got more places to see…”

“I’ve been everywhere in this crappy region.”

“But there’s trainers you can battle – ”

“I’m through with battling. I quit.”

“I doubt that very much, Green. I think you’ll find that if you just get outside, you’ll feel a little better – ”

“Getting pounced on by the stupid media and mocked by everyone is supposed to make me feel better?”

Professor Oak squared his shoulders, the trademarked disapproving look reappearing on his face; obviously he was preparing for a lecture. Daisy started to look uncomfortable.

“Let’s be frank here for a moment,” the professor said to Green sternly. “You’re moping around because Red’s gone, aren’t you?”

The mention of Red made Green feel like his throat had just been pricked by a thousand burning needles. He didn’t say anything.

“We all miss Red, Green. But you really don’t have anyone to blame but yourself for him running off! I have no idea why you decided to start being so cruel to him when he’s always been your best friend, but – ”

“Red is not my friend,” hissed Green.

Professor Oak seemed momentarily started, more by the venom behind this declaration than by the words themselves. “Oh, come now. You know you don’t mean that – ”

“Of course I mean it!” Green shoved out his chair and stood up, his dishes clinking and clattering together. “He took everything from me! He’s the reason why I can’t show my face in public anymore! He’s the reason why I’m not the champion! Everyone hates me because of him…!”

The professor rolled his eyes. “You lost the championship fair and square. Of course everyone doesn’t hate you, that’s absurd! And even if they did, it would be because of your attitude, not because of Red…”

Green slammed both hands on the table, his eyes blown wide with fury, and a glass of ice water spilled and oozed in a cold puddle across the tablecloth.

“Okay, Gramps, fine! It’s all my fault!” he shouted. “Even though I worked harder than I ever had in my life, I did everything wrong, and that’s why you don’t care about me, isn’t it?! All you care about is Red! He’s kind, and he’s talented, and he’s the perfect grandson you never had, and I know that you wish that I was the one who left instead of him so that you could just pretend that he’s part of your family and that I never existed! I get it! You don’t have to rub it in every single second of every day!”

He saw his grandfather’s and sister’s expressions, but he was so mad that he didn’t really see them, and he ran upstairs to his bedroom and slammed the door and locked it behind him.

Later, while he was sitting with the covers pulled up over his head, he heard soft knocking against the wood. It might have just been Daisy, but it was probably Professor Oak, so he refused to answer until whoever was knocking gave up and went away.

…

Four months after he’d lost the championship.

It was starting to get colder now. From time to time, he caught himself wondering whether or not Red was someplace warm.

Green was going out more now. He stuck to the larger cities – Celadon, Saffron, Cerulean – anyplace where he could lose himself in the crowds. These days, he always wore drab clothes, with a hoodie pulled up over his ginger hair, longing for anonymity like he never had before. It was better than being at home.

On a windy day near the end of December, he was sitting outside a café in Saffron City, sipping a mug of hot chocolate. Marshmallows and whipped cream…he’d never liked whipped cream all that much, but Red loved it. On days like today, they used to sit in his mom’s kitchen after they’d been playing outside for a while, and she’d make hot chocolate with cocoa powder and real milk…

_I’ve got to stop this._

It was as if, after keeping himself from thinking of Red for months, a dam in the recesses of his mind had suddenly burst open and flooded him with memories and emotions. Memories – because his grandfather was right, of course, at least about one thing: Red had always been his best friend. And emotions…

Okay, yes, he was jealous. Jealous of Red’s better nature, of how easily he’d been so kind and selfless to others, of how he’d taken the championship…and Green had been upset, and frustrated, and he needed to take it out on someone. So he took it out on Red. And now he’d lost his best friend.

And of course, that just made him feel guilty. Increasingly guilty over the past few weeks, because no wonder Red’s mother wouldn’t speak to him, no wonder Professor Oak would rather have had Red for a grandson. They deserved Red – and Red deserved to be here, enjoying his fame and his time as the champion, not off in wherever-the-hell-he-was where no one could find him.

“Excuse me.”

Green jolted out of his reverie at the sound of a small voice. There was a kid, maybe a few years younger than him, watching him interestedly from beside the table. She was squeezing a small stuffed Charmander in her arms.

“Didn’t you used to be the champion?” she asked. “I saw you on TV!”

He winced – of course she did. “U-uh, yeah, that’s me,” he stammered, as if this one little girl were as judgmental and important as the reporters who still doggedly tailed him some days.

She tilted her head curiously. “So, how come you lost the championship, anyway?”

“I dunno,” muttered Green. It wasn’t completely a lie, even though he was starting to at least suspect why.

“Hmm…maybe it’s because you’re a bad guy!” suggested the little girl brightly. “After all, the good guys always wind, and the bad guys always lose, right?”

And he broke.

He’d known that it was coming. Something had to break him, after all…but he hadn’t thought that it would be that.

His vision blurred, maybe from tears, maybe just from the sudden onset of feelings that weren’t anger or self-pity, and he abandoned his hot chocolate and hurried out of the café. As soon as he reached the street, he let Pidgeot out of her PokeBall.

“Home,” he said to her shortly. If he’d tried to say anything longer, his voice surely would have shattered into a million pieces.

She took him back to Pallet Town. As they flew, most of the tears streaming down his cheeks weren’t caused by the cold headwind.

Nobody was at home when he arrived – Professor Oak would be busy at the lab at this hour of the afternoon, and Daisy was probably helping him. So Green scrambled through the door and up the stairs to his room unnoticed, and as he flung himself onto the bed, he had never felt more alone in his life. And since his shoulders were starting to shake, he didn’t notice that he had knocked something off of the bed, a spherical something that rolled against the bookshelf and landed right on its release button…

Green was startled up from his miserable stupor when a bright light flashed up from the floor, solidifying after a moment into the familiar bulky shape of his starter. He blinked owlishly; other than distributing food and traveling to and fro on Pidgeot, Green had scarcely payed his PokeBalls any mind in months, never mind the creatures contained within them. His Pokemon should have hated him a much as anyone else, and yet…

“B-Blastoise…?”

The water-type was looking at his trainer with concern. Not resentment, not distaste. Just a genuine worry for his well-being – something that Green felt like he hadn’t seen in a very long time.

“I’m…I-I’m okay...” he mumbled halfheartedly. “I just…”

Blastoise kept looking at him, and suddenly Green didn’t feel the need to lie, to say that everything was fine or to smear anger over his sadness as a weak cover-up. What did he have to hide, anyway?

“I miss Red,” he said hoarsely. “He’s been gone for so long, and I…Blastoise, I think I really screwed up. I never wanted any of this to happen, a-and now…he’s really not coming back, is he? He’s n-never coming back…”

He took a deep breath, his face twisting involuntarily. Blastoise leaned over him and very, very gently bumped their forehead’s together, and the intimacy of the gesture – the affection – was what finally pushed Green over the edge.

He cried for a very long time.

At the end of it, he found himself curled up on his bed, one long skinny arm dangling over the side of the mattress; his fingers brushed against the shell of Blastoise, who had laid down on the floor beside him. There was nothing inherently soothing about the stonelike texture of the shell, but Green was calmed nevertheless.

Maybe Red was gone, maybe everyone hated him…but it turned out that he wasn’t alone after all.

…

Five months after he’d lost the championship.

Green found himself staring, perplexed, at the famous dragon tamer Lance, who had knocked on the front door. In Red’s absence, Lance was serving as the champion and head of the Pokemon League, so what the hell was he doing in a crappy unimportant place like Pallet Town? Lance certainly didn’t look like he was happy to be here.

“It’s going to be your birthday soon, correct?” Lance asked awkwardly.

Green nodded, regarding him with suspicion (which was basically how he regarded everyone these days). “Yeah. Next week. I’ll be twelve.”

“I’ll get right to the point,” said Lance. “After your birthday, how would you like a job as the leader of the Viridian City Gym?”

“Excuse me?!” responded Green almost automatically. Surely he hadn’t heard that correctly.

“The place has been shut up for months,” said Lance. “Ever since we found out that Giovanni was the leader of Team Rocket, I mean. Being out a gym leader has definitely ruined the flow of the Pokemon League, and we need someone in there…”

“I know all that,” interrupted Green. Living right next to Viridan City, the whole thing was pretty common knowledge, and he really didn’t need another recap of his departed friend’s heroics. “I get that you nee someone in there. I just…well, why me?”

“You were specifically recommended.”

“By who?”

“By your grandfather.”

Green didn’t say anything. Couldn’t say anything.

“He heard that we were looking to fill the position, and told us that you had just the right temperament to be a gym leader,” continued Lance. “That he’d scarcely seen a trainer who was more talented, or more hardworking. And that you would certainly offer up a challenge to all of your competitors…”

“No way,” muttered Green. “Gramps would never say any of that stuff…not about me…”

“I can assure you that he did,” replied Lance. “And I’ve seen the way that you battle; I can safely agree with him. So what do you say, Green? Do you want a job?”

Green thought about how much time he’d wasted the past five months. He thought about all the hours spent holed up in his room, about how he’d eventually refused to speak even to his family, about being in the dark and feeling alone. He thought about how much he missed Red, and wondered if maybe he had locked himself away because he was afraid to move on, afraid to carry on as if nothing had happened…or maybe he was simply ashamed of himself, and had been from the start, even without realizing it at first.

And from there, he thought of his Pokemon, how he’d neglected them…and how they still cared about him, nonetheless…they deserved to have their caring returned. It was a simple matter of fairness, and if it really did end up making him a better trainer, that would just be a pleasant side effect.

“I’m a little out of practice, so you’ll have to bear with me,” said Green. “But yes, I want the job.”

Five months ago, he had lost the championship, and he’d lost his best friend. Now he saw that, although it had been the end of an era, it was not the end of his life – not the end of him. He still had plenty of time to turn things around.

And so, five months after he officially lost it, Green finally let go of the championship once and for all.

**Author's Note:**

> I normally don't post Pokemon stuff here, because all of my Pokemon writing comes from a very extensive fan universe that I developed with my girlfriend, but I think that this piece stands on its own just fine.


End file.
